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/ 
Sir Ciipici and of her Poems 

By E. YANCE V COHEN. 



# 



SIR CUPID 



OTHER POEMS. 




BY 



ANCEY COHEN 
.1 



V iP 

DEC 10 



CAMBRIDGE, MASS. : 

MOSES KING, PUBLISHER, 

Harvard Square. 









COPYRIGHT, 



Bv E. YANCEY COHEN. 



THE BRADSTREET PRESS, 

279, 281, 283 Broadway, 
New York. 



CONTENTS. 



SIR CUPID AND OTHER POEMS. 

Sir Cupid 7 

Fantasie 12 

TiNTERN Abbey I4 

In Shushan i6 

Evening on Lake Maggiore 20 

Eos 22 

Fate 23 

Jephthah's Daughter 25 

The Voyage of Life 27 

A Roman Triumph 29 

The Opoponax -31 

Nocturne 32 

In Memoriam 34 

In Westminster 36 

An Ancient Landscape 37 

On the Receipt of a Volume of Poems ■ • • 39 

The Chase 40 



4 



CONTENTS. 



A Sigh 42 

The Mitre Tavern 43 

On the Demolition of Jaruin Mabille ... 46 

Behind a Portiere 48 

Lines for an Album 50 

In Bond Street 52 

An Old Gentleman 54 

To A Lady, with a Vinaigrette 56 

On a Biscuit 59 

Old Times 60 

Our Waiters in Memorial 62 

Genus Poetarum 64 

A Lady in Cambridge 65 

At the Opera 67 

SONNETS. 

Sir Moses Montefiore 71 

To AN Island 72 

A Reverie 74 

Miss Gratz 75 

Eduard Lasker 77 

On a German Sentence 78 

TRANSLATIONS. 

Madrigal 81 

In Exile 82 

The Dolphin 85 

The Skater 88 

Boyhood 90 

The Inconveniences of Fortune 92 



SIR CUPID 



OTHER POEMS. 



SIR CUPID. 

SIR CUPID is the doughtiest knight 
Of legend or romance ; 
No mortal heart but knows the smart 

Of his light-driven lance. 
Puissant in fair lady's bower 

As in the lists, I trow, 
His burning sighs and dangerous eyes 
Lay many a maiden low. 

Mysterious 'mongst all throngs of men 

He comes, arm'd cap-a-pie, 
A form so fair it well might wear 

An angel's panoply ; 
Yet, visor down, no king may view 

His princely, beauteous face, 



5/i? CUPID. 

Except it be a courtesy 
That floweth of his grace. 

Sir Cupid of all errant knights 

Is through the world best known ; 
The peasant lass doth mark him pass, 

The queen smiles from her throne ; 
Thou'rt welcome in the woodman's hut 

Or castle grand, Sir Knight, — 
Where'er it be there's heraldry 

To prove thy lineage bright. 

Men say no natal land may claim 

This wanderer of the earth ; 
Some secret fell, some mystic spell, 

Doth hover round his birth — 
The haunted depths of magic woods, 

With elves in moonlit dance. 
And all the haze and tangl'd maze 

Of golden-gay romance. 

His armor is with jewels pied. 
And pflanceth swift and bright 



.S7A' CUPID. 

As a f^littcrini;- net of flowerets wet 
With clew in the mornint^ ''i^lit. 

His spurs of gold clink merrily, 
Like chords on a minstrel's lyre, 

As with diamond shield he ritles afield 
With Pleasure for his squire I 

'Tis said in Andalusia's groves 

And in that southern land 
Where the love-lorn sea of Sicily 

Kisses a golden strand, 
'Tis said, at nightfall maidens hear 

His pleasant roundelay, 
As with their breast in strange unrest 

They wend their dream\' wa\'. 

He sings a song so sweet, so sweet. 

It should the sirens' be 
That lur'd in \'ain the blameless men 

Upon that magic sea, — 
So sweet a song Love sings but once. 

But once and swift 'tis fled ; 



lO ■ S/J? CUPID. 

But I will swear no maiden's ear 
Doth spurn the words he said ! 

A mighty wizard, he doth stir 

The embers of the heart, 
And hapless bans and talismans 

His incantations start; 
No necromancer wilder spells 

E'er conjured up than he, — 
Hearts leaden cold turn trembling gold 

In his bright alchemy. 

Far in the mighty frozen north. 

Amid the maelstrom's roars, 
No viking's name a hardier fame 

Hath won along those shores; 
Ho, wassail to the stranger knight ! 

Let him rich honor'd be. 
For he hath brought a kindlier thought 

From out the southern sea. 

So ever through the world awa}' 
Sir Cupid, mail'd in light, 



S/A' CUPID. 



I I 



With starry crest ritlcs cast and west 

Upon his journex' bright. 
God speed you on \-our \\a\-, Sir Kni<^ht ! 

Our hearts so warm and true 
Shall hold no friend till life have end 

More close and dear than you ! 



FANTASIE. 

I KNOW a maiden, and her e}'es 
Are sweet and open as our day ; 
Their hgdit is as the tender skies 
That deck the violet May. 

As cloudlets o'er the sparkling" main 
Dash airily in sunset's glow, 

She boundeth o'er the glistening" plain, 
Our sky-sent I'Allegro. 

She Cometh with the western wind, 
Light-laden with a dewy freight 

Of gladness, and her crystal mind 
Doth o-uide our eaeer State. 



FANTASIE. 13 

() lau^iiiiiL;-, radiant maid, our hearts, 
WHiich slumber as the silent lyre, 

Thou strikest with a power that starts 
An olden x'ibrant fire! 

Bright, youthful (icnius of our land, 
Fair, g"a\', impulsive, artless, free. 

Thou trippest o'er a golden sand, 
And we will follow thee ! 



TINTERN ABBEY. 
I. 

IN ruin'd beaut}' ancient Tintern stands, 
With pitying- cloak of ivy overgrown ; 
God's worship still the grand old house commands, 
Silent and brooding, aged and o'erthrown. 

Forever gone its olden monkish life. 

Where pass'd the jocund song and easy tale. 

With just enough of prayer and churchly strife 
To keep in vision fair the Holy Grail. 

J- 
No chants now echo down those grassy aisles, 

For aye is hush'd the deep Gregorian hymn ; 
No more the Virgin casts her hallow'd smiles 

Mid the bright glory of the cherubim. 



TIXTF.RN ABBEY. 



15 



4- 
Adowii the valley crisps the svKmii Wye, 

ATerriU^ tumbliiiij;', chatteriiii^ 'ilong, — 
O hark ! a new-born, i;iadsome minstrels}- 

Drops earthward with the skylark's morning song ! 



IN SHUSHAN. 

r. 

O'ER lordly Shushan's terrac'd walls 
The starry cloak of midniL^ht falls, 
And nought doth break the solemn spell 
Save the soft note of Philomel, 
Or some faint fountain's silver}' tongue 
Lulling the gardens with its song. 
The yellow moon doth rule the sky 
And gild the dark-blue dome on high, 
And o'er the marble stairways cold 
A robe of tissue, woof 'd with gold, 
Doth seem to cling, a garment rare 
Enmantling shoulders lustrous fair ! 
The King doth wassail hold to-night — 
For him the hours have pinions light ; 



A\- SHUSHAN. 17 

The gladding- boiint}' of the vine 

He pledges in the ruddy wine, > 

And rears his dripping goblet high 

To Love and h^-iendship's unit}'. 

His arm encirchng Hanian's neck, 

He views with nian\' a nod and heck 

O'er purple rugs the dancers fly 

In maz\' rounds of revelry. 

Then sweetest minstrels tune their song. 

And the gold lamps with faltering ray^ 

In lox'clicr \isions fade away, 
As blessed legends float along 
Of gods and heroes who began 

The wars of Darkness and of Light, 

Of dew-ey'd Morn and sullen Night, 
Of Ormuzd fair and Ahriman. 

3- 
A distant palace casement b)- 

Queen Esther pauses wearily, 

And gazxs toward the shadowy fields 

C)f silent orbs, where clustering shields 



I 8 IN SHUSH AN. 

(ilcam faint, — Heaven's warriors' loosen'd mail 

Viy camp-fires glintinc;" far and pale. 

Sweetly the rose-tinct night-wind sues 

To know her secret, as it woos 

With kisses passion-warm and quick 

The languish'd lilies of her cheek. 

Ah, many fair flowers on earth there be, 

l^ut never a flower so fair as she ! 

And thus uj^on the midnight air 

Wing'd skyward goes her hallow'd prayer: 

" Sweet Lord of Heaven! who aye hast shown 

Thy people grace, and from tin- throne, 

luicircl'd with angelic throngs, 

Hast heard their prayers and heal'd their 

wrongs. 
Great God of Israel's love and mine, 
When on the morrow, 'fore the King, 
I dare my people's suit to bring. 
Touch thou my lips with power divine; 
O make my presence balmy-sweet. 
That from his purpl'd, royal seat. 
The Kin<>' shall smile and in his e^race 



IX SHUSHAN. 19 

Undo the sorrows of my nice. 

Grant. Lord! that hkc yon moon SL'rcnc 

That sits unthron'd twixt earth and sky. 

And 'neath her sapphire canop\' 
Doth cheer the ni-lit, a blessed ciueen. 
I too ma)- be twixt those who haste 

To bring m\' [)eople to the chist 

And Thee, sweet Heaven, w ith all thy host. 
A 0'-'<-'^'i^ ^^^ bright and calm and chaste, 

As peerless, star-sonl'd and as trne. 
As yon fair jonrneycr in the waste 

Of the deep-bosom'd, endless bhic !" 



EVENINCx ON LAKE MAGGIORE. 

GAILY the fisher rows his boat 
To his Httle fisher- isle ; 
His wife stands waitini;' by the shore, 

His children on him smile; 
Soon, with a flask of honest wine 

And a dish of macaro, 
What care he if the world be wide 
Or his cottage door be low ! 

h'our fairy isles in the sunset burn 
Like jewels sparkling bright, 

Nestle a dozen hamlets low 
And trim their evening light ; 

O'er purple hillsides wet with wine 
Dark shades majestic glide, 



EVENING ON LAKE MAGGIORE. 21 

Aiul a solemn licaviiiL;' wells aiul throbs 
In the soft Italian tide. 

Hark ! faintl}' o'er the stilK' lake 

The e\'enini;' bell comes rini;"inL(, 
And I'^ancy lists to catch afar 

Sweet nuns at \-espers singinL!;; 
At eventiilc a m\-stic \eil 

Drops from the pensi\e heaven, 
As if a benediction fell 

O'er all the earth at e\'en. 

The Alpine mountains, dim and far, 

Have faded from the view, 
And holy Night trails o'er the hills 

Her mantle dank with <\c\\. 
O balmy gales! glide soft awa)% 

Haste ye my love to seek, 
And whisper fancies in her ear 

i\\\i\ kiss her damask cheek ! 



EOS. 

LO, where the citadel of Night 
^ Is scal'd by ladders of the dawn ! 
The flushing standard of the morn, 
Advanc'd amid the speary light, 

With orient waving flaunts the sky, 

Proclaiming conquest, and young Day, 
Fair on the ramparts, far away 

Watches the shadows flee and die. 



FATE. 

TI M E was \\•hcn,^\■ant()ninL,^ o'er the bnnn\- downs, 
Sweet Ma(l<j;^e and I, oui' Iiands and liearts 
cntwin'd, 
Childlike wc wov(^ us prett}' Maj'-day crowns 
And laui;h'd to sec our locks freak in the wintl ! 

To me Love like a rudd\' urchin seem'd, 
Horn to lix'c ever ! () how glad were we! 

The future 'fore us like a morning beam'd, 
Decking with golden light the pleasant lea. 

Ah, 'twas a hap[\\- holidax- I she said 

At gloaming, " Robin, must we part so soon ?" 

" My Madge," cried I, " next summer we shall wed." 
.\nd fairly, like a seraph's shield, uprose the moon. 



24 



FATE. 



Our tender love lies trodden like the grass, — 

Full many a moon hath cheer'd the darkling sky, 

Full many a ship hath sail'd away, alas ! 
Since in our youth we parted, she and I. 



JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER. 

PUREST of ancient times, 
I^cst in old riilead's land, 
See Jcphthah's dau<^hter stand, — 
Sung in the olden rhymes, 
Worth}- of poets grand. 

Fair as the scented rose 
Deep hid in Sharon's vales. 
Hud of her native dales, 
1 Icr hcav}', blighting woes 
All of the world bewails. 

O how the oak-trees sigh'd, 

O what a wild lament 

Down through the mountains went 



26 JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER. 

For their delight, their pride, 
Drooping, with tears besprent. 

Vanish'd her youthful dreams, 
Dreams of the great and good, — 
Her radiant maidenhood. 
Bright in hearth's morning beams, 
Death's withering hand withstood. 

What woes her life betid, 

Rarest of Israel, 

Like an immortal bell. 

Vibrating long unbid. 

In lingering notes outwell. 

Be mine the joyous thrills 
Of her unknown delight. 
That, without fear of night. 
Where'er God's spirit wills 
My soul may take its flight ! 



THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. 

HAIL ! the crimson morn is glowing! 
l)a\' resplendent greets us now; 
Winds propitiousl}' are blowing 

Toward the seas our glancing prow. 
(Jn life's NON'age we mariners daring, 

Youth's bright harbor leave behind ; 
Ho ! for Eldorado faring, 
Golden glories let us find ! 

Isles of Fanc}-, far off gleaming, 
(iem the sun-lit summer waves; 

Onw^ard glide we, softly dreaming 
Love-tales for their pleasant caves. 

Giant storms should the)' o'ertake us, 
Pirates of the dark-swept main, 



THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. 

Hearts of oak shall not forsake us, 
Battling we shall victory gain ! 

Argosies of richest treasure 

Homeward may our galleys bring, 
j^ounding with Hope's joyful measure. 

Hasting on Love's swift, strong wing. 
Land ho ! then as fainting even 

Sinks into the arms of night. 
May we moor in some deep haven 

Starr'd with Heaven's unerring light ! 



N' 



A ROMAN TRIUMPH. 

OW L^lorious was the Triuniph Caniillus met at 
home I 
Laugh'd all the \\a\es of Tiber and sany; the hills of 

Rome. 
Another such i)rocession, such reL;al splendor shown, 
Was never in the days of kini;s nor ever shall be 

known ! 
Forth from the Campus Martins, clear up the Sacred 

Way, 
The solemn, t;rand procession mov'd on in state that 

day. 
l\.ich pour'd the strains of music, the clarion's golden 

throat 
Wav'd out the pean gaily and loos'd the stirring note. 
The standards of the conquer'd and arms and spoils 

of war, 



30 



A ROMAN TRIUMPH. 



They flutter'd in the joyous breeze and ghtter'd from 

afar. 
After the conquer'd pennants dragg''d captive slaves 

in chains, 
Low-bending 'neath the heavy weight of suffering 

and their pains, 
l^right-ribbon'd and with gilded horns the nieek-ey'd 

oxen trod, 
i\nd priests in holy xx'stnient clad, with fillet of the 

god. 
Now hail to brave Camillus ! lo, here he is at last ! 
And bows and smiles to Rome's applause as slowly 

he rides past. 
High on his circl'd chariot, in purple rob'ci and gold, 
And wreath of laurel round his brow that arms tri- 
umphant told. 
Then sound the pean gaily, and loudly sing and tell, 
Thus Jove rewards the deeds of them who serve their 

country well ! 



THE OPOPONAX. 

Till'', opoponax blooms 
III the laiit;"uid South, 
And its faint perfumes 
On the blossomy air 
Are a breath from the mouth 
Of SpriiiL^time there. 

Its golden threads 
And its stem so fine, 

When Morning treads 
Her pathwa}' bright. 

Clasp an atom of wine 
And hold it tisjht. 



NOCTURNE. 

OUR sail looms in the golden dark, 
Our prow the rippling water cleaves, 
And out ahead a mirrow'd spark 
Trembles and glances on the waves. 

Soft blows the wind; a wondrous wreath 
Has floated wierdly from the sea, 

And hovers o'er the twinkling heath 
So gaunt and silent on our lee. 

I lean against the varying mast 

And dream of other nights and days ; 

Heartsick I pierce the misty waste. 
Nor spy Life's beacon in the haze. 



NOCTURNE. 

() woe to US who dwell apart! 

And w'oc for all the lin^criiii;" \'cars ! 
() but to fold her to ni\- heart, 

And still to bless her with ni\- tears ! 

A wild-duck's carh- call ; the pla\- 
Of l)lashin<;" \\avelets mid the reeds; 

A wild, low nioanini^ far awa)' 
In dec]:)'nin!j; threnody recedes. 



33 



IN MEMORIAM. 

LIKE old-time merchantmen from I^Lastern 
J voyai^es 
Returning-, out from where the Indian gales 
Blow incense-laden perfumes o'er the deep, 
With rich stores freii^hted — aromatic gums, 
Pearls, corals, spices, silken stuff's of worth 
Much prized, — hath homeward duh' pass'd of late 
A venerable ship, which we knew well. 
We mark'd her pass ; upon the placid wave 
Scarce moving, toward the looming crimson west 
At eventide she drifted — with the sunset 
Had sunk behind th' horizon's verge and gone. 
Ah well ! 'tis man\' ships do plough the seas. 
But not perhaps so clear and honesth' 
Shall read their logs. In that great Lloyds above, 



IN MEMORIAL. 

Wherein the Aii^el keeps the register, 

First-rank'd aiul iiobK' historied is writ 

The brave old vessel which of late hath pass'd. 



35 



IN WESTMINSTER. 

FAINT canticles ascending- 
Adreamil}- the dim cathedral walls, 
A holy ecstas}' the heart enthralls, 
The soul with Music's blending". 

O hark the high majestic symphon}', 
The deep-voic'd billow\- chorus ! 
Roll, organ-tones ! peal o'er us 

In volum'd joy \-our thunderous psalmody 

Then softlx' as the shadows glide 
Adown the placid eventide, 
The dying strains their breathing cease 
And flutter into solemn peace. 



F 



AN ANCIENT LANDSCAPE. 

AIR hrcczcs o'er I'ltruria's \inc-clad hills arc 
blow i ml;' ; 

All purple sinks the western i^'od, in regal splendor 
showing ; 

The i)iping of the shepherds proves of warring the 
surcease, 

And the cattle in the \alleys are the happ}- signs of 
peace. 

A rain of light is falling from the heavens in the west 

And hangs in mx'stic showers on the distant moun- 
tain's crest, 

i\nd it wrap> the heights of Veii in a cloak of won- 
drous gold, — 

B\- Juno ! such a gorgeous sight one doesn't oft 
behold ! 



38 AN ANCIENT LANDSCAPE. 

Ill his low Etruscan cottage, by the homely, open 

door, 
With his children sporting" round him and prancing 

o'er the floor, 
His baby girl caressing as she calmly, lightly sleeps, 
i\nd patting now his trust}' dog. that faithful vigil 

keeps, 
Agricola. the farmer, resting, quaffs the evening" air, 
And prays the gods to bless a scene so trancjuil and 

so fair. 



ON THE RECEIPT OF A VOLUME OF 
POEMS FROM A FRIEND. 

RICH-FRl'.KiHTI'J) book! thou-h vellum white 
J^e not th)- i;arb. nor edi^'d th}- leax'es with i;okl, 
Ihou'i't yet a treasure in ni)' si_<^ht 

\\'hich jealousl}- and dearl}- will I hold, 
Yea, clasp thee close and hold thee tight, 

As cowled cliurchmen do their missals dim and old. 

Illumin'd art thou in mine eyes 

l^e}"ond tin- world of all-bright poes}', 

A softer, tenderer meaning lies 

In th\- fair songs and love-lorn minstrelsy, 

Now that I feel a glad surmise 

That I a heart have won, unwortln- though I be. 



THE CHASE. 

OFOR the Autumn fresh and fair. 
The motley hills and scented air, 
The dappled morn, the sparkling night — 
This is the season of delight ! 

Hark to the bugle ! through the clear, 
The bright and eager atmosphere, 
Dances the distant mingl'd sound 
Of echoing shout and ba}'ing hound ! 

The headlong hunt, the maddening chase, 
This is the sport of noblest race, 

The old gods gave it birth — 
They lov'd to list the valleys ringing 

Wild with the jangling mirth. 



THE CHASE. 

And spy the airy roebucks springing 
Like fountains from the earth ! 

O when he sounds the merry horn 
Through the gkid hills at break of morn 

The huntsman bold, 

Or )'oung or old, 
Doth laugh all other sports to scorn ! 



41 



A SIGH. 

A GARDEN in the balmy South, 
A maid with tresses hke the night, 
She plucks a floweret dipp'd in light 
And folds it to her winsome mouth. 

Me envious ! that I too were kisst ! 
O bid me, sweetheart, hie to thee, 
I'll brave or land or furious sea 

To keep with thee thy garden tryst ! 



THE MITRE TAVERN. 



THE Mitre lies in Oxford town 
Within the spacious, famous High, 
An inn of infinite renown, 
An age-worn hostehy. 

2. 
Beneath its portal arch'd and low 

Slow-surging Time hath ebb'd and flow'd, 
And left grave proofs of long ago 

Upon his stony road. 

3- 
Yon flags have echoed with the sound 

Of loyal odes and song by night, 

As each gay race hath drank its round 

And troll'd its ditties bright. 



44 THE MITRE TA VERN. 

4- 
Ye cosy chambers overhead, 

How many a skimberer have ye wist 
By friendly roisterers put to bed, 

By reehng Bacchus kisst ? 

5- 
The while that heroes in the glow 

Of blushful youth and burning love 
Have staid to pledge their joys below. 

Nor seek a bliss above ! 

6. 
What lines of ancient waiters chops, 

Hot, juicy steaks and dripping tarts 
Have brought, as ruddy as the drops 

In their own honest hearts ! 

7- 
Soft ! of the Mitre's treasures best, 

Its most particular bright star. 
Hath been for ages, 'tis confess'd. 

The lass behind the bar. 



THE MITRE TA VERN. 45 

8. 
Her artless smile, how swift its raid ! 

She is so cruel whilst so merry, 
Full many a youth hath sworn the maid 

Embitter'd e'en his sherry. 

9- 
The inns of hLngland are her boast. 

And man\- a tavern may ye see, — 
But none, old Mitre, will I toast 

So oft and deep as thee ! 



ON THE DEMOLITION OF JARDIN 
MABILLE. 



GO sell your berth-right! stay at home! 
Your dreampt-of pilgrimage to Mecca, 
Your journey to imperial Rome, 

O take not now with fond Rebecca ! 

2. 
What now is Europe ? stay at home ! 

Your life-long hopes are all frustrated — 
What now to you is dusty Rome ? 

Or Venice, to the blue waves mated ? 

3- 
For in fair Paris, where you stop 

Upon your Cook-conducted tour. 

No longer casual you may drop 

Into the Jardiii for an hour. 



JAR DIN MABILLE. 

4- 
That far-fam'd haunt ! what fairy nights, 

In summer's winsome, warm caresses, 

Have passed beneath its thousand hghts, 

Mid all that wonderland expresses ! 

5- 
Such a iiiclaiigc ! brii^ht, gay cocotte, 

Wide-gaping stranger, dance and revel. 

Reckless abandon — not a jot 

Yields Mirth for Sunday, saint or devil ! 

6. 
No more you'll lift to some fair eyes 

A beaker when the music ceases — 
You villain ! chasing butterflies ! 

We Argonauts have learn'd what fleece is. 

7- 
Farewell, Mabille ! malign'd Mabille ! 

(The clergymen now no more can mock it); 

So wipe your tears, ni}- friend, — and feel 

You've got more money in your pocket ! 



47 



BEHIND A PORTIERE. 



INOTIC'D Jack at my Lady's ball 
Handing to Lilian Marivaux 
A glass of champagne — that was all, 
Yet her eyes bent sweet and low. 

Love, like an elf of liglit, 

Leapt oer the rim so bright, 

And divd and daslid and sparkTd fine 

Ln the glass of vierry wine ! 

2. 
What can it mean, that twice the dance 
Has come and gone, and here they are ? 



BEHIND A PORTIERE. 49 

And her eyes are briL,dit with a loveHcr glance 
Than ever beani'd from a star ? 

Love, witJi a splendid leap, 
Sprang der the foaming deep, 
And eoursd a dozen venturous, trips 
O'er her red eheeks and dangenvis lips ! 

3- 
Good lack, thou knowcst the scene full well, 

Such riddles arc not hard to guess — 

I pulled ihc portiere as there fell 

A silvery whisper'd " yes " ! 

Love, like a zvanton boy, 
Dane'd, prane'd and sang for joy ; 
Fd put that ivayzuard imp a rights. 
He sits up far too late d nights I 



LINES FOR AN ALBUM. 

I. 

OWHAT if a maiden be dower'd with charms, 
Though praises float by her away, 
As the warm, idle night-wind, beladen with balms, 
Makes never a rustle mid Araby's palms 

And desert-ward steals ere the day. 
And her smile be like morn, and her blush as the 

rose, 
When first the soft wooing of summer it knows. 
And mysteries dark 'neath her long lashes hide 
That no youth can fathom, though many have tried? 

2. 

And what if her lips ? — but, by Jove, it is plain 
My Pegasus I must hold in ! 



LINES FOR AN ALBUM. 5 i 

If I give him the spurs, Lord ! to hold liini were 

vain, 
He'd go till the very last page he did gain, 

And backward careering begin ! 
So, dismounting my fiery animal, I, 
In plain, simple words, which is best gallantry, 
My hand on my heart, wish you every good thing 
That fairy god-mothers to princesses bring ! 



IN BOND STREET. 

IN the year '82, a decade or so 
This side of hoops and chignojis, 
When we had plac'd Delmonico 

At last ahead of Bignon's, 
I found me on the. shady side 
Of Bond Street, London, in the tide 
Of those who walk and many who slide, 
And some who eat champignons. 

Girls with their locks all cut away 
Strode by as if deer-stalking; 

Men, in a constitutional way, 

Went in for conservative walking ; 

Yet liberal did their glasses flash 

On every nice girl fit to "mash" — 



IN BOND STREET. 53 

I say, those fellows are deucedly rash, 
It was, aw, dear me ! shawking. 

But I stifled my nice American sense 

Of discernment twixt rude and proper, 
And on my thoughts at others' expense 

I plac'd an immediate stopper ; 
And I take this occasion to let you know. 
When planted in England a man will grow, 
And the ways of America he'll overthrow 
As he's overthrown in a "cropper." 



AN OLD GENTLEMAN. 

OWHAT Is that elixir fine, 
More potent than old Spanish wine, 
That doth his cheeks incarnadine ? 

His hair is of the genial tint 
Of silver issuing from the mint, 
(And, like the latter, there's no stint.) 

Most sage and worldly-wise, forsooth. 
His talk, commingling jest and truth ; 
The Nestor he of golden youth ! 

Of gossip bright and prandial lore 
He has a most delicious store — 
He keeps the table on a roar. 



AN OLD GENTLEMAN. 

Who can a li\clicr ditty troll 

Whilst niellowini;" o'er the flowing bowl 

Than he, O my prophetic soul ? 

And he has travel'd wide and far, 

From Murray Hill to Zanzibar ; 

I think he din'd once with the Czar. 

His pulses still beat full and high — 
So good a fellow needn't die ; 
A health to him and his, quaff I ! 



55 



TO A LADY, WITH A VINAIGRETTE. 



I 



I. 

N yon deep and salty mine 

Bound with steep walls crystalline, 



2. 
Puck Goodfellow sometimes dwells. 
When he works his maddest spells. 

3- 
Here's a story I'll relate — 
Trust me, nought prevaricate. 

4- 
Madam needed sore salt air 
And to Newport would repair. 



TO A LADY, WITH A VINAIGRETTE. 57 

5- 
But her own exclusive set 

Seaward venturing not as yet, 

6. 
Fancied she'd her evils cure 
With her salts in miniature. 

7- 
Ah, glad tears her eyelids wet 

As she snuffs her vinaigrette, 

8. 
And a brimming joy doth rise 
To her watery, thankful eyes. 

9- 
But sly Puck a vicious blast 

Of his simoon sent at last. 

10. 
Help ! she's choking, slap her back ! 
There ! (my goodness, what a whack !) 

1 1. 
Call the doctor, get some keys ! 

My, what a stupendous sneeze ! 



58 TO A LADY, WITH A VINAIGRETTE. 

12. 
Streaming eyes and watery nose, 
Liquified, great Heaven ! she grows. 

13- 
Gentle friend, I sure would not 
With my gift include her lot. 

14. 
O, instead of wicked salt 
Lurking in this prison vault, 

15- 
May you picture Loves astir 
Borne on wings of gossamer, 

16. 
Atom spirits lithe and bright 
Delving in its caves of light, 

17- 
Wafting perfumes as they fly 
Tinct with winds of Araby ! 



ON A BISCUIT. 

AVERSE to compose on a frail little biscuit 
Is a hazardous matter — howev^er, 111 risk it. 
Imagine me seated at my cscritoir, 
In double employment of pen and of jaw ; 
For I eat as I write, and the reason is plain — 
'Tis to fortify stomach and animate brain ! 
O rare little biscuit ! who'll venture to say 
That a better he'll find in the course of a day ! 
So light and so delicate, toothsome and brown, 
Like a nice little maid in a neat russet gown ! 
But I shudder to think of the terrible fate 
Awaiting, fore-destin'd, thy frangible weight ! 
My murderous jaws shall have crunch'd thee to pieces 
Ere the last halting line of this doggerel ceases. 



OLD TIMES. 

COME, hail to the memory of the Dutch, 
And to St. Nicholas give we praise ! 
Although we're " English " now so much 
We'll wine and toast the old Dutch days. 

Then cheer and friendship met together 
About the firesides of our aunts. 

And callers brav'd the wintry weather 
Encas'd in several pairs of pants. 

The Battery then was Central Park, 
A fair retreat on a night serene ; 

O wide were the boundaries for a lark. 
From Trinity Church to Bowling Green ! 



OLD TIMES. 6 1 

Britannia rul'd a hundred years 

This world-renown'd and blessed isle, 

And then, with ''an rcvoir, my dears," 
She suddenly left it for awhile. 

The English are a noble race ! 

Found in their spacious homes down-town 
They entcrtain'd with tact and grace, 

And thus their "teas" had great renown. 

Our grandsires in their silk and sword 
Receiv'd our grandams' curtsies low, 

And whisper'd soft the tender word 
Just ere they finally rose to go. 

Ah, quaint old days ! the polish'd floor, 

The stately minuet, stolen glance, 
The honest heart, the open door. 

The oak of England, flower of France ! 



OUR WAITERS IN MEMORIAL. 

OYE who poise the steaming bowl 
And spill the consummated soup, 
Who pour the milk and pass the roll 
And stand for pictures in a group, 

Ye sable Ganymedes, how well 
Ye wait at our symposia grand. 

In posture classic, costume swell. 
Like heavy Graces where ye stand ! 

At half- past five, then happy me ! 

The chief throws ope the portal wide ; 
Upon the instant joyously 

My nostrils catch the cod-fish fried. 



OUR WAITERS IN MEMORIAL. 63 

But O eternal pie of veal ! 

O hash ! O rare and quaint beef-stew ! 
What rash sensations do I feel 

Each time, each time I meet with you ! 

Now see where gleams the flashing ring, 
And mark how shines the well-oil'd hair! 

Exotic perfumes far outfling 
Their dull aroma on the air. 

Some wield the military sword, 
Some mingle in the mazy dance, 

Or high they tread the Thespian board 
To frighten Terror with their glance ! 

Ye guardians of our dearest wants. 

Ye ever-faithful ones and true, 
Fair Harvard fondly, justly vaunts 

The servitors she has in you ! 



GENUS POETARUM. 

YOUNG poets are a dainty set 
As they indite to-day ; 
I wonder if their hands they'd wet 
With touching human clay ? 

So fine their etchings are, their pens 

So exquisitely true, 
It takes a microscopic lens 

To get a perfect view ! 



A LADY IN CAMBRIDGE. 

O SURELY I'm a Croesus grown 
If, venturous, I may be so bold, 
To claim that I her friendship own 
Who's worth her weight in gold. 

Hail, happy evenings ! when the jest 
Is lightly toss'd from lip to lip. 

As richly made and fairly dresst 
As the smooth ice we sip. 

Here is a house where every cheer 
Awaits the hearty-welcom'd guest; 

Pure peace is his, although I fear 
The lobster finds small rest ! 



66 A LADY IN CAMBRIDGE. 

The poets say, the rosy bowl, 

O'erflowing with Olympus' wealth, 

Held bound the gentler passions' soul. 
Love, Joy, Afifection, Health. 

If so, our heart-encircl'd mirth, 
Its ready joy, its rapture given. 

Yields just the solace here on earth 
That heroes found in heaven. 



AT THE OPERA. 

O NIGHTINGALE, the rarest, 
Best songster of our new-born, happy year 
Thou knowest not a timid mortal's fear, 
What angels do thou darest. 

Thou soarest in the skies of joyous song, 

The heaven of music wingest. 

And from thy cloud-throat flingest 
A rain of melody upon the throng ! 



SONNETS. 



SIR MOSES MONTEFIORE. 

SWICI^T, bluc-ey'd Charity, devout and calm, 
Hath been the dear companion of his days; 

I low iiath he hearken'd to her prayerful lays, 
Sad-voic'd and plaintive as an angel's psalm ! 
She pointed, and he hasten'd where the palm 

Sighs faintly in the pitiless Syrian rays, 

Where men sank gasping on the lone highways 
And cried aloud for succor and for balm. 
The sick he heal'd, the fallen rais'd he up ; 

Light track'd his footsteps through the darksome 
land, — 
And sav'd, men wept and bless'd him in their tears. 
Come, friends, lift we on high the loving cup 

And hail with greetings from our distant strand 
This hero, crested with his hundred years ! 



TO AN ISLAND BEAUTIFULLY 
ADORNED. 

ART- CROWNED Isle, what dost thou seated 
there 
With marble palace and stiff, formal trees. 
With trim parterres and stately terraces. 
Where Nature fain had revel'd free and fair! 
Fie, Art! chaste maid, that thou unsham'd did'st dare 
To get thee where lurk'd primal mysteries, 
Where, charm'd to dalliance soft, the love-sick 
breeze 
Play'd wantonly with nymphs' dew-tangl'd hair. 
O senseless exorcist ! at thy dull ban 

The glade grew silent and the dryads fled ; 



TO AN ISLAND. 

The shaggy satyrs and the wild god Pan 
Went forth in exile from their shady bed, 

And where delirious wells in rapture ran 
A mute, cold palace rear'd its carven head. 



71> 



A REVERIE. 

WHENCE, love-blown Rose, did come thy 
sensuous power, 

Outwaving perfume from thy chalice fine, 

To bathe my soul in clouds of balmy wine. 
Dull-poisoning like the dreamy lotus flower ? 
Befell that once within a faery bower 

I drain'd thy incense till soft Sleep divine 

In Lethe's waters drench'd my drowsy eyne, — 
When lo, before me in that heavy hour 
An angel hover'd, like a vision fair. 

Her form glow'd dimly in the hazy wreath 
Of tinctur'd vapor that did load the air ; 

Ah, like faint spices from the East her breath, 
And light as wind-kiss'd petals fell her hair. 

Half-hiding, in its play, calm eyes beneath. 



MISS GRATZ, OF PHILADELPHIA.* 

I. 

NO sweeter fame hath fallen to maiden's lot 
Than the proud glory which encircles thee — 

The prototype of that fair soul to be 
Whose everlasting beauty fadeth not! 
Methinks it were as if by lakeside spot 

A tranquil, peerless flower a knight did see, 

And with a rapt and gallant chivalry 
Did pluck and press it to his maiden heart ; 
And, gazing on it, dream of Love and Truth, 

(Of Love and Truth, ofttimes how sore distraught!) 
And say, " O beauteous flower! a true knight sueth 

To hymn thy praise ! for with sweet magic fraught 



* Irving, who greatly admired Miss Gratz, told Scott of her, and the 
latter is said to have had his friend's description in his mind when he 
created the character of " Rebecca," in Ivan hoe. 



76 MISS GRATZ. 

Thou flood'st mine eyes with dreams of glad-soul'd 
youth, 
Of virtue, faith, proud love and glorious thought ! " 

2. 
And he was fain unto a brother knight 

His flower's sweet charms so duteously t' expound, 

That this, the very prince of poets, found 
In them an inspiration new and bright. 
Lo ! bloom'd Romance's whitest flower, bedight 

With all the grace that ever was renown'd, 

By dewy Love's ethcrial teardrops crown'd, 
And dower'd with a diadem of light ! 
Poor parable, thou failest ! 'twere thy task 

To paint in lovelier hues than thou hast done. 
Ah, witching Poetry, thou should'st unmask 

x\nd bare thy beauteous visage to the sun, 
When, humbly sueing, aid thy votaries ask 

To grace with praises what all hearts hath won ! 



EDUARD LASKER. 

Lf\SKER, untimely clos'd thy great career! 
' Thy Hfe, an orb of deep'ning radiance, set 

In western heavens — 'twas meet, for toward these 
yet 
The starry mind doth wander swift and clear. 
Good statesman, brave and undefil'd ! no fear 

Deterr'd thy hand to grasp the maddening net 

That doth a mighty people leash and fret — 
Not thine, alas ! their pean shouts to hear. 
Germania ! who hast shown thy heroes great 

To hurl off chains of foreign tyranny, 
Who in thy olden forest days a state 

Didst foster in the lap of liberty, 
What now depresses and defies thee? — 'Tis the weight 

Of thine own armor. Loose it, and be free ! 



ON A VERY INVOLVED AND -WEIGHTY 
GERMAN SENTENCE. 

HERI'^ is a maze of Gotterdamnierung ! 
Dimness Titanic on the shore of Night, 

With scarce a ray of charitable hght 
Athwart th' inimitable darkness flung. 
All dismal, cheerless, like a dense fog hung 

Upon a sea wherein the Stagirite 

Or bold Quinctilian might have sunk from sight. 
With " help " upon his paralysed tongue ! 
Fine muse of Heine, that so fairly wrought, 

W^is this the language of thy vignettes frail ? 
With legions'such did Schiller make onslaught 

'Gainst phalanx'd tyranny ? Let xA-tlas quail 
Before this mass of world-outweighing thought. 

Give up his championship and swift turn tail ! 



TRANSLATIONS. 



MADRIGAL. 

Voltaire. 

FAIR-EYED, yet dower'd with a lovelier heart, 
Simple and true thou art ! 
Though making nought of pretence to control, 

In fief thou holdst my soul. 
If thou hadst lived when Gabrielle did. 

None may aver 
Of thee what king or courtier might have said, — 
But certes none had spoke of her ! 



IN EXILE. 

Chateaubriand. 

HOW dearly I remember 
Our birth-place, sister mine, 
The cottage low, the pleasant ways. 

The ever-bright sunshine. 
O France ! how joyous were those days — 
My heart is thine. 

Sweet sis, dost thou remember 

Our mother, how at night 
She clasp'd us to her happy breast 

Beside our hearth-fire bright, 
And we her tresses golden press'd 

With kisses lieht ? 



IN EXILE. 83 

O sis, dost thou remember 

The chateau by the Dore, 
Lav'd by the shady, Hmpid flood ; 

And that old Moorish tower 
Whence carillons right gaily pour'd 

At day-break's hour ? 

Dost thou the lake remember 

Whose crest the swallows skimm'd, 

Where with the wind the tall reed sway'd. 
And where, as wearj'-limb'd, 

Phoebus a couch of wavelets made, 
With grasses trimm'd ? 

And her dost thou remember. 

So gentle, sweet and mild, 
Who gather'd with us early flowers 

Through all those woodlands wild — 
The lost companion of my hours. 

For aye exil'd ? 

O who will give me back Helene, 
Or thee, my mountain home ? 



84 IN EXILE. 

Cease, memories, fraught for mc with pain ! 

Yet France ! where'er I roam. 
To thee, my country, still again 

My heart shall turn ! 



THE DOLPHIN. 

Scheffel. 

CKV\\ Canipanella rounded we 
And toward Salerno bore, 
Amalfi's cliffs, high on our lee. 

Rose misty from the shore. 
The sailors in much-reefed hose 

Did roughly joke, and lo ! 
Their salty consolation rose : 
'Sta sera maccaro ! 

With sea-breeze bathing" head and breast, 

With souls as clear as air, 
What keener pleasure could have bless'd 

Us Paestum-journeying pair ? 



86 THE DOLPHIN. 

We greeted waves and evening red 

With cheer and gay hallo, 
And greeted eke our evening bread, 

'Sta sera maccaro. 

As when Arion's sweet guitar 

Did o'er the waters steal, 
A swarm of dolphins, wide and far, 

Were soon about our keel. 
Jesu ! what sommersaults they turn'd, 

How merry was the show ! 
Sharp-headed fellows ! they had learn'd 

'Sta sera maccaro. 

Lo, on us one did softly seem 

Above the rest intent. 
When in the captain's face a stream, 

A well-aim'd spurt, he sent. 
Of friendship 'twas a crooked act : 

" Give me an oar ! so ho ! " 
And swift his head he roundly crack'd — 

'Sta sera maccaro ! 



THE DOLPHIN. 

Wc rcach'tl Salerno's strand that night; 

The inn was far, yet we 
A mountain Tore us all snow-white 

Of maccaro did see ! 
The sailors loud the banquet prais'd, 

We pilt^^rims twain also ; 
Only the dolphin was disgrac'd — 

'Sta sera maccaro ! 

But when at midnight all the sea 

Did phosphorescent loom, 
The dolphin seem'd from out the bay 

To gaze into our room. 
Bugs, fleas and poisonous gnats our blood 

Suck'd till the stream ebb'd low ; 
The dolphin laugh'd from his cool flood, 

'Sta sera maccaro ! 



87 



THE SKATER. 

Plbnnies. 

WHAT joy ! the river's bound in ice, 
Congeal'd it lies, a silver mead ; 
My skates are fasten'd in a trice, 

And down the glittering track I speed. 

How grandly fair doth Luna shine ! 

How wondrous gleams the frosty air ! 
The stream a palace crystalline 

Benail'd with diamonds doth appear ! 

I envy not the eagle's flight, 

I envy not the steed's career, 
Nor Boreas tearing through the night — 

A spirit, swift as thought, I fare. 



THE SKA TER. 89 

That occanward all frozen were ! 

Fleet o'er the giant fields away, 
From Carthage to the Baltic's roar 

Fd speed my flight from break of day ! 



BOYHOOD. 

Holty. 

HOW happy ! round whose shoulders flies 
His boyish jacket gay — 
The dull Age ne'er he vilifies, 
He blithe as laughing May ! 

His wooden sword this stern hussar, 

His top thrown by, he draws, 
And like a general hous'd for war 

Sits grim his hobby-horse. 

So through the blue air, o'er the mead 

His bright-strip'd ball he shy, 
No care hath he for strife nor blood. 

For Philomel no sieh. 



BOYHOOD. 91 

Nought irks him in the whole wide worUl 

Nor his fine liumor shakes 
Save when his ball away is swirl'd 

Or when his sword he breaks. 

My boy, the live- long happy day 

Sport blithe as e'er you will, — 
Go chase the butterfly away 

O'er flowery field and hill ! 

Not always thus. Soon shall you rage, 

Cramp'd in a schoolroom low, 
And sweat o'er many a stupid page 

Of mouldy Cicero. 



THE INCONVENIENCES OF 
FORTUNE. 

Desaiigiers. 

SINCE I've reach'd the pillow'd crest 
Of repose and luxury 
Vanish'd are the joys that bless'd 

Whilom careless, happy me. 
Like a lord I stretch and yawn — 
Happiness, I'll swear thou'rt gone ! 

Day and night I'm in a stew; 

Women come to me in tears, — 
Rents not ready, taxes due — 

Botheration to my cares ! 
Blessed saints, is this repose ? 
He who says so nothing knows. 



THE INCONVENIENCES OF FORTUNE. 

Appetite I'd fain repair; 

Bundrd in my new-bought coach. 
Dignity shall take the air! 

Shall ni)' wealth on health encroach ? 
With mine ale I'd happiest be, 
But the mode is to take tea. 

For a slight pain in my head 

Doctors consultations hold, 
Faculties stand by my bed. 

Give me physic, take my gold. 
Health, thou rosy, mocking witch. 
Thou art fled, and I am — rich ! 

Rut I see in princely style 
Lords and ladies driving up ; 

Muse, thy verselets cease awhile, 
When a duke approaches, stop ! 

All rcvoir ! some other time 

We'll pursue our callow rhyme. 



93 



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